Samantha James (16 page)

Words. They were just words, uttered in the heat of the moment. Cameron steeled himself against the hurt and wrapped his arms around her, pinning her arms to her sides, quelling her rebellion until she collapsed against him. Without stopping to think, he bent and carried her to the bed, tucking her limp body into his side.

She turned her face into his neck and wept.

“They hate me. They condemn me with their whispers, accuse me with their stares.”

The wet heat of her tears dampened his skin. Seeing her like this was like a dagger twisting in his belly. Cameron despised himself as much as she despised him. “Nay—”

“They do. They do! I did nothing to that sweet child, nor to those boys.”

His heart knotted. “I know, Meredith. I saw.”

Knowing that he had borne witness to her scalding humiliation made it all the worse. A shroud of despair encircled her. She cried even harder.

A strong hand swept the length of her spine. “Hush, Meredith.” His voice washed over her, soft as fleece. “
Hush
.”

But it was not so easy. An immense wave of pain crashed over her. She wept for herself, for her father, for a future fraught with uncertainty.

And all the while, he held her. Cameron. He cradled her close against his side, smoothed the errant tendrils of hair from her cheek, and kissed away the tears from
her eyes. Ah, but it made no sense that she should find comfort in the arms of the one who caused such stormy torment within her, yet she did. In time her sobs eased. Her shaking ceased, for his embrace was a sheltering cocoon of warmth and strength. He tucked her head into the hollow of his shoulder. With a watery sigh, she closed her eyes, numb and exhausted.

She must have dozed, for when she woke, pale yellow candlelight filled the room. The aroma of roasted meat wafted in the air. Bracing herself on one hand, she sat up.

Cameron stepped forward. He seemed to appear from nowhere. He searched her face intently. Meredith flushed, embarrassingly aware of his scrutiny. No doubt her eyes were swollen and red; she was certain she looked a veritable fright. Yet he must have been satisfied with what he saw, for he said quietly, “There is food. Are you hungry?”

“A little,” she admitted. She pushed back the heavy curtain of her hair and arose.

She ate dutifully from the trencher he had prepared for her—haggis, bread, and cheese. She declined the frumenty pudding, but accepted when he refilled her goblet with wine. She drank deeply, then stole a glance at him. He was staring into the leaping flames of the fire. The flickering light cast into prominence the straight blade of his nose, the sensuous curve of his mouth, a mouth that could relax into a boyishly engaging smile or draw into a thin, stern line when he was displeased. An odd little tremor went through her. Lord God above, but he was the most strikingly beautiful man she’d ever laid eyes upon.

“When will you marry her?” The wine was heady and potent—it supplied the courage she so sorely
lacked, else she would never have dared to speak so freely.

He appeared startled. “I beg your pardon?”

Meredith drew a deep breath. “Moire,” she clarified. “When will you marry her?”

He gave her a long, slow look. “Who told you I would marry her?”

Heat suffused her cheeks. She would not tell tales on Egan. “I’ve heard talk…that you would marry her…and I thought mayhap…’twould be when you tired of me.”

A rakish brow rose. Smoothly he said, “Ah, but how could I tire of you when I’ve not yet had you?”

Meredith blushed. Too late she realized her mistake—ah, but she’d fallen ripely into his hands with her blunder. Bravely she swallowed. “I simply thought—”

“I know what you thought, lass. But let me put the matter to rest here and now. I will not marry her. I am not yet ready to marry. Bluntly put, I’ve no inclination to wed, not to Moire or any other. Now. Does that satisfy your curiosity?”

Her nod was jerky. The sudden glint in his eye warned her not to push the matter any further.

“Good,” he said pleasantly. “Now that I’ve answered your question, you must answer mine. I know you are afraid of me, but I would know…is it just me?”

The conversation had taken a direction she hadn’t anticipated. Meredith’s gaze flew to his, where she read an unfaltering determination. Damnation! she thought. Damnation! Why couldn’t he let her be?

“Nay,” she said jerkily.

“So it’s all men?”

“Aye. Any man. Every man.” She spoke before she thought better of it.

Little did she know her struggle lay vivid in the depths of her eyes. She lowered her lashes, swiftly veiling her thoughts. But Cameron had already seen. He set aside his wine—and hers.

“No more of that for you, lass.” In one fluid move he was on his feet. Two steps brought him before her. Trapping icy cold fingers within his, he tugged her upward…up and into his embrace.

Strong fingers caught at her chin and brought her eyes cleaving to his. “Don’t you know you’ve naught to fear from me?” His whisper was low and intense.

Her breath caught. Her lips parted. Whatever she might have said lodged deep in her throat. She had one mind-spinning glimpse of blazing gray eyes before his mouth captured hers. He kissed her then, a kiss of slow, rousing exploration. His lips were like some strange, unknown potion, luring her ever onward into a dark void where naught existed but the pressure of his mouth melting her both inside and out. She moaned—a sound of pleasure, not protest. His arms tightened. For one paralyzing instant she thought she would be crushed. With a groan he lifted her high.

A sense of weightlessness assailed her, and then she felt the hardness of the mattress at her back. He stretched out beside her; the searing fusion of their mouths remained unbroken.

Her hands came up against his shoulders, but she did not stop him. Warm fingers trailed slowly down the column of her throat, then traced the neckline of her gown. Meredith’s pulse surely stopped in that instant. For one heart-pounding moment, he hovered there…then dipped boldly within the bodice of her gown, pushing aside the cloth and baring her to the waist.

He caught her gasp in the back of his throat. Her hands came up to his shoulders, but he was insistent. Headily persuasive. His tongue touched hers, engaging her in a duel in which both emerged victorious. Those treacherous fingers paused, directly above the pouting tip of her breast. Her nipples tingled and ached, for what she knew not…

And then she did. His thumb grazed the very tip, sending myriad sensations radiating outward. It came again…and yet again. She nearly cried out. Such sweet, sweet torment. Her body abrim, she arched into that elusive caress. Seeking. Craving, aware somewhere deep within herself that this was what she’d wanted, without realizing it. Him. Desire. Now she knew what it was and she only wanted more. Was she wicked? It felt wicked—his kiss. His hands. Sinfully wicked. But deliciously so. Deliriously so.

All at once she was caught in a maze of conflicting emotions. Since that horrible night so long ago, the thought of lying with a man had brought only fear and disgust. Yet Cameron was different. He made her feel things she’d never thought she could feel with any man. She was reminded of his gentleness with the child Aileen. In truth, he was not so grim as she had once thought. Nor was he unkind.

Yet the thought of being naked…of being seen…being touched in the way that he would surely touch her…She was torn. Torn, and she knew not which way to turn.

“Cameron—” His name was a low, choked cry.

Slowly he raised his head. His eyes were glittering. His hand stilled.

“Cameron, please…”

A muscle jumped in his jaw. He gazed at her, at her wide-eyed distress. He felt her trembling against
him. It struck him then…she was like a woman who knew naught of the ways of love…or naught but
fear
of the ways of love…

The thought took root.

Blood pooled thick and heavy there in his loins. His temples were pounding, his rod pulsing. To touch at last the hot satin of her skin. To feel the flutter of moist, soft lips beneath his. To touch and not have…He gritted his teeth and tried to ignore the thickening swell of his rod.

He heard the ragged rush of her breath, saw her eyes cleave to his.

He wanted her still. He wanted her more than ever, more than he’d ever wanted anything in his life. Some strange, twisting emotion unfolded within him. In the back of his mind, he knew he could not take her, for she was too disarmingly vulnerable. Yet if he could not have her, then at least he would have this…

A finger on her lips halted the flow of words. “Nay, Meredith, say nothing. I will not take you,” he whispered. “Not now. Not this night. But soon, lass, soon you will be mine.”

Her gown was whisked from her body. Her heart climbed to her throat as bold glittering eyes roamed the length of her, dwelling endlessly on the quivering thrust of firm young breasts, the fiery thatch between her thighs.

Then his hands were on her anew. He pulled her close, his mouth claiming hers in a hotly devouring kiss that left her feeling dizzy and breathless.

The candles were doused. The night closed in. He lay down, near her but not touching her.

When at last she fell asleep, her lips still burned with the scorching imprint of his kiss.

She was weakening. Meredith knew it. And so did he.
So did he
.

Cameron was right. It was only a matter of time before she belonged to him completely…before her traitorous body betrayed her—indeed it already had! she thought wildly as she lay in bed the next morn. A chilling thought seized her. When that happened, he would discover the truth. Residing in the convent as she had, no doubt he was convinced she was a chaste, innocent maid. Would he be angry? Of a certainty, she decided bitterly. Nay, she could not bear to experience the shame anew. The remembrance made her shudder. She’d felt so dirty. So unclean…

She could not stay here. She could not!

Cameron had already risen. Huddling beneath the coverlet, she watched the play of muscle in his bare shoulders as he washed. He half-turned. Immediately she screwed her eyes shut and feigned sleep.

She could hear him drawing on his boots. Footsteps drew near. There followed a ringing silence. Her breath quickened. Her ears strained for some sign of his whereabouts. Where the devil was he?

“Meredith. I know you are awake.” The callused tip of a finger traced the line of her jaw.

Her eyes opened. She glared at him. He was now fully dressed and standing beside the bed.

He laughed softly at the defiant flare in those beautiful blue eyes. “Did you sleep well, lass?”

“I slept most soundly.”

“Then my snores did not wake you?”

“You do not snore,” she said crossly.

“So you’ve noticed.” He sounded pleased. No doubt his good humor would come at her expense, she decided.

The mattress dipped as he sat. Reaching out, he stroked the slope of one bare shoulder. Meredith froze. Saints above, she’d completely forgotten she’d slept naked! She was secretly appalled—never in her life had she done such a thing! Oh, but she had to escape, else she would soon be beyond redemption.

“I’ve a hard day’s ride ahead of me, lass. Finn and I go to pick up some sheep from a farmer to the north.”

Meredith’s mind began to race. He was heading north. She must go south. Oh, if she could just slip away…

His knuckles beneath her chin, he tilted her face up. “Come, now, lass. Will you deliver me into the frosty morn with the warmth of your kiss?”

“’Tis summer,” she told him flatly.

“So it is. You see what effect you have on me?”

“Obviously a chilly one!”

“Hardly.” His laughter was low and oddly pleasing to the ear. When he bent and pressed his mouth to hers, she did not fight him. Her body displayed a shocking will of its own. Suddenly all she could think was that this was the last time she would know the fervor of his kiss.

Slender arms crept up and around his neck. Her
mouth clung to his. She felt him start in surprise, and then powerful arms drew her close. The coverlet slipped away, forgotten.

Long moments passed before he raised his head. His gaze rested on her lips, still damp and moist from his kiss. “I will hurry back, lass. On that you may rest assured.”

Within seconds he was gone. Excitement gathered within her. She pushed aside the bedclothes and hurriedly washed. A maid brought a tray of food. She did not eat, but tucked away the bread and cheese—she would need it later. All the while her mind buzzed. Of late, Egan had relaxed his guard during her morning prayers—no longer did he remain inside the chapel with her. Indeed, many times he’d been nowhere near when she emerged. And the chapel was far opposite from the drum tower where the watchman was posted.

Her crucifix. She could not leave without her crucifix!

Since the day Cameron had ripped it from her throat, she’d seen no sign of it. Still, she had to try. Hurriedly she searched through his chest, pushing aside his clothing.

A knock sounded on the door. It was Egan, she knew. She bit back a choked cry. Damn—damn! She had no choice but to leave without it, for she might never be granted a chance like this. None of her inner turmoil showed as she opened the door to greet Egan.

By the time she entered the chapel, her heart clamored so that she could scarcely breathe. Egan did not follow her within, but remained outside the doors—Meredith could scarce believe her good fortune. Sinking down on her knees, she prayed it would continue, and finished by asking God’s forgiveness for the scar
city of her time with Him this morn. She winced as she thought of Egan—no doubt he would bear the brunt of Cameron’s wrath when he discovered she was gone. Though she felt horribly guilty for sacrificing Egan in this way, she could not give in to it.

’Twas a simple matter to exit the chapel through the sacristy doorway. Thankfully, no one lurked near. Hurriedly she placed a gauzy veil over her head to subdue the bright shimmer of her hair as she headed toward the bailey. Bowing her head low, she walked briskly toward the postern gate as if she belonged there. She’d noted several days earlier that often there was no guard present till evening approached—not until this morning had she dreamed she might make use of it.

No one stopped her. No one stepped her way, or even cast a glance at her. Her hands shaking, she let herself out the gate.

Praise the saints, she had made it! The palisade walls were behind her. Now she must keep to the shadows, lest she be discovered…

“You mean to tell me she was on foot, your men were on horseback, and still you could not find her?”

“There are several others still searching.” Egan’s gaze slid away. He could scarcely believe it himself. He’d been stunned when he’d finally entered the kirk this morning, only to find it empty. In truth, he couldn’t believe she possessed the daring to actually flee. He felt both humiliated and resentful that she had made such a fool of him.

But the fault was his—no one else’s—and so he told Cameron.

“Aye,” he said quietly. “I make no excuses. The duty was mine—the fault is mine. I thought she tar
ried longer than usual at her prayers, yet I waited. After yesterday, I thought mayhap—”

“You need not explain.” Cameron had gone white about the mouth as he listened. “You felt sorry for her and she took full advantage of it.” His thoughts brewed apace with his anger. Had she left because of the incident yesterday? She’d been stung to the core. Or was she ashamed he’d seen her cry? Or because he’d stated anew his desire to make her his? It could have been any of those reasons. All of them. He chafed inwardly. What did it matter why she’d left? She was gone. Relentless purpose filled his heart. But not for long, he decided blackly. No, not for long.

Egan shook his head. “Coming from the nunnery as she did, I truly did not think her capable of such—”

“I know—such sly deceit!” His tone was as hard as his expression. He turned and ordered Fortune saddled and brought around again—as well as bread and ale.

Egan stepped forward. “I will accompany you.”

A hand clapped his shoulder. “Nay, Egan. I will do this alone.” His eyes sought Egan’s. “I will be gone for several days. Will you see to things here?”

Egan was puzzled. “Of course. But Cameron, surely it will not take so long to find her—”

“I know that.” Cameron’s smile was grim. “But I think it best that…”

Egan listened intently. Minutes later, Fortune raced through the gatehouse at his master’s command, leaving a cloud of dust in his wake.

Egan watched as Cameron disappeared from sight, his eyes troubled. He’d seen for himself the brittle determination on Cameron’s features, and he was certain it did not bode well for Meredith. Oh, but he
shouldn’t have cared what fate befell the Munro lass! Certainly she deserved whatever punishment Cameron chose to mete out. Yet Egan was almost glad he would not be present when Cameron found her…

For Cameron would find her. That was something Egan did not doubt.

Meredith was no fool. She was well aware that Egan would soon discover she was missing. First the keep would be searched. When no sign of her was discovered, he would send out riders. So it was that she did not keep to the rutted roadway, but ducked beneath the shelter of trees. Now and again she peered over her shoulder at the hulking outline of Dunthorpe. A plume of dust spiraled high. She knew then that riders had been dispatched, so she hid among the bushes for what seemed like hours.

Her muscles cramped. Her stomach growled. Her eyes burned from the strain of peering through the brambled foliage. She didn’t crawl out from her hiding place until she heard the distant thunder of hoof-beats heading back toward the keep.

She assuaged her hunger with a handful of ripe berries. She felt like crowing her triumph—she’d managed to make good her escape from Cameron! Yet suddenly the weather began to change, as it was wont to do here in the Highlands.

Within minutes the sky was a dark, depthless gray. The wind began to howl, a wind so fierce it whipped the veil from her head and robbed her of breath. Her hair streaming out behind her like a banner of flame, she stumbled back a step. A bush snapped beneath the weight of her foot, upsetting her balance. She went down hard, knocking the back of her head hard against the uneven ground.

The world reeled giddily around her. Meredith staggered upright. Only then did she realize she hadn’t been so clever after all. Her spirits plunged. Her heart twisted. Ah, but she should have known she was doomed! If only she could have found her crucifix, perhaps the Lord would have smiled upon her. As it was, her food would not last beyond the morrow. She had no flint and tinder to light a fire. She was a Munro on MacKay lands. What if Cameron’s clansmen recognized her as such? She might well be slain on sight. The clouds obliterated the sun. Such weather might well last for days, she realized bleakly. How was she to find her way when she could not tell east from west, north from south?

In desperation she buried her head in her hands. Her throat closed, hot and tight. Her lungs burned as she bit back a sob, cursing her woman’s frailty, for what good would it do to weep? Yet she was barely able to keep from breaking down in tears.

That was how he found her—her shoulders slumped as if she carried the burdens of the world, the brightness of her hair caught by the wind and streaming out behind her in wild abandon.

Almost painfully she raised her head, aware that something was different. The hairs on the back of her neck prickled, as they did so often when
he
was near.

Cameron.

From out of the mists they came, man and steed. Cameron and Fortune. The beat of her heart grew still and silent, then all at once pounded so that she feared it would leave the cavern of her breast. She could not move as he reined the great beast to a halt, then dismounted.

For a never-ending moment she felt the brutal
weight of his stare. Wordlessly he raised his hand aloft.

As if he commanded it, the wind ceased to blow—for the space of a heartbeat, it was as if the very world held its breath. Bitterly she despaired her weakness, even as she decried his strength.

Wordlessly she crossed to where he stood. The words he’d used that night at Connyridge returned to haunt her.
Do not try to run, for I will find you. I will hunt you to the ends of this land. Do not try to hide, for I will bind you to my side with a chain that will forever be unbroken
.

Her knees were shaking, yet from somewhere she dredged up the courage to raise her eyes to his. She nearly cried out, for his features were twisted into a dark mask that was terrible to behold.

Her lips parted. “Cameron—”

“Say nothing!” he hissed. “Do you hear? Say nothing!” His tone cut like a lash. She’d seen him angry before, but not like this—never like this.

She was lifted and set jarringly upon Fortune’s back—he followed her up. A rumble of thunder rolled across the land, shaking the very earth. Fortune danced sideways. Cameron laid a hand on his neck and spoke his name. The steed’s sleek black flesh quivered, then he quieted.

Meredith stared at his hands, so big and dark. She was like his steed, Meredith thought in half-shame, half-despair. But a touch from those lean-fingered hands and he calmed her, soothed her wild fear with naught but the warmth of his presence.

But not now. She could feel him rigid as a lance behind her; the arms at her sides were taut with restraint.

A heel to Fortune’s flank, and they were off.

To Meredith’s shock, she hadn’t covered nearly the ground she thought she had. Within the hour they were back at the keep. But Cameron didn’t ride through the gatehouse as she expected. A curt order to remain where she was rushed by her ear. He dismounted and strode to the guard who had emerged from the gatehouse. Meredith watched nervously as the man handed him a pouch. Finn appeared on horseback and spoke briefly with Cameron.

He returned a moment later. For one shattering instant as he swung up behind her, their eyes collided. His burned like fire, yet never had she seen such coldness. It was little wonder that she dared not ask his intentions. Without a word he wheeled Fortune around and rode away from the keep.

Meredith’s mind was muddled. Why had they left? Where were they going? Why did Finn keep pace behind them? To her surprise, they didn’t ride far. Before long a familiar scent teased her nostrils—the sharp tang of salt and sea.

She was not given to wonder why for long. Her heart leaped to her throat as Cameron slowed Fortune’s gallop to a walk. The steed carefully picked his way down a narrow trail to a small cove edged by a strip of sandy beach.

They halted. Cameron leaped to the sand, then reached for her. His hands displayed no tendency to linger. Meredith glanced toward the waves rolling on the sand. The wind-driven clouds had blown beyond the horizon. Near the headland was a small isle; hills dipped and rolled, carpeted in shimmering green. But this day Meredith had no eye for such beauty, for he had dragged a small raft from between two massive boulders—in the dusky twilight she’d not seen it.

Her gaze trickled from the raft, to the isle, to Cam
eron’s features, now etched in stone. Dread knotted her belly. A helpless despair clamped tight about her breast. He alone knew her fear of water. He alone knew she could not swim. Would he leave her there? Was this his way of seeing that she never escaped? She could scarcely summon her voice.